She awoke late the next morning, the combination of stress and turmoil she had felt the previous evening having taken a rather monumental toll on her body. She didn't even know, now, why she had been so worried…she remembered how comforting speaking to him had been and smiled a little. Rolling out of bed, she was a little surprised at how late she had slept, usually preferring to rise earlier than this, but then quickly rolled her eyes. There was no use worrying about it now, was there?
Rather quickly, she was laced into her corset and then she dressed herself. Then she ate, growing a little frustrated that Cal, like always, was absent. Rose honestly wanted to talk to him…spend time with him. It became almost unspeakably boring and even rather lonely when he was at work as he always was during the day. The servants were of little company during the day, scattered about as they always were.
Then she looked outside. The sky was overcast and gray, as always these days, and the wind was fierce and heavy; indeed, it seemed it could make skin bleed today if one were foolish enough to go outside. There were expansive, undulating grounds that went far beyond the mansion in the back, and she was aching to explore them sometime, but not alone. There was even a forest, she knew, far, far away, miles beyond the mansion as well… Usually she would have cared less about the cold, but today even she was rendered cautious. No. Outdoors would not do today.
Sighing, she simply resolved that, today, she would finally explore the rest of the mansion. Even visit the library…
Brightening, she did so.
The third floor was fascinating, but much like the others, at first glance, which was slightly disappointing to her…Wide staircases with rich engravings on the banisters; doors and other hallways that seemed to stretch for miles. But upon entering some of the rooms, and walking through some of the other hallways, she was pleased to note that the third floor was, in fact, different, with many other fascinating aspects of the mansion. There were other rooms in which to be entertained…there was a piano in one room…a rather luxurious fireplace in another…To her shock, she even discovered a table for table tennis in one rather large room, complete with balls and rackets! She would certainly come back here another day….
But, curiosity building, she retraced her steps and soon found herself on the fourth floor. The library's location was quite obvious. It took up an entire wing of the fourth floor alone. Two oak doors with shiny gold lion's heads for handles beckoned her forward…
Opening the door, she had to gasp at the hugeness of the room…Goodness…it was even bigger than her own family's library at home had been growing up…
The two doors closing behind her, barely even processing the sound of them closing, she stepped forward into the middle of the room. This was…why, this was simply beautiful. There was no other word to describe it. A large fireplace was surrounded by towering shelf upon shelf of books…there were many volumes she had read, but many, she found, she had not. There were even foreign works and works she had never even heard of, all by unknown authors...Every which way one turned, there was a wall-to wall, rich black bookcase…
The wind rattled the windows, and the rich maroon curtains adorning the windows matched the rug. Enthralled, her attention was soon caught by a large black-and-white portrait adorning the right wall…directly across from the window if one was standing with one's back to the window.
Her prior wonder disappearing, the only thing on her mind now was curiosity…
Stepping a little closer to the portrait, she almost wanted to touch it.
Cal was sitting on a large wooden chair, wearing a handsome black coat with a cravat. Long pants and boots completed his outfit. He looked very much the same, but she could tell this was when he was younger…perhaps twenty…. Rose then looked to his face, and somehow, as if in a trance, could not stop herself from lingering. Yes…even she had to admit, he was just as handsome as he was now... as he had always been….
His dark hair was gel-less and tousled to perfection. He had a very regal air to him, almost as though he were a prince…From an outsider's view, if one did not know him, it was obvious he was of a rich family.
But what struck her most, as she looked at his face again, was that he was not smiling. His face was entirely serious and his eyes seemed to hold an almost empty look.
To his left, standing up, was his father. He was much older than his only son, of course, but the resemblance was simply uncanny. Though he was heavier than he had been in his younger days, and his face was older, Nathan Hockley was wearing an elegant black suit, and still was a handsome man, despite his age. He was smiling, but this smile was arrogant; indeed, almost too arrogant, as though he felt he was a king. His hair, unlike his son's, was slicked back, and though it was obvious it was graying, he still had a full head of it. His dark eyes bored into the camera, and she felt chills running down her spine at the memories of him. She had only met him once…She had never liked him.
To his right, she noted, was Cal's mother. She too was older, but still beautiful. Her shiny dark hair was in an elegant updo and studded with pearls. She was wearing a long, crystal-enstudded dress that brilliantly complimented her slim figure. She was a head shorter than her husband, and, like him, she was smiling. Her smile too was arrogant; almost simpering. It almost reminded her of her own mother's smile sometimes.
Looking at the three again, she had to admit it was obvious where Cal got his almost trademark good looks from. It also was most obvious that they were a family.
Both of his parents looked like unpleasant people if one were perhaps an outsider, she noted. She knew she had met them briefly, but only when she was fifteen, once. She could barely remember meeting them when she was a little girl like her mother had said she had.
Thinking back, she hadn't liked either of them. The engagement had been set in stone even at that age but she had barely met Cal and her father had talked with them and they had all decided to wait until she was sixteen to make it official. She had not known it had been her fate, however. She had only found out after the pair of them had been killed in a tragic automobile accident abroad that she was to be married to him. She had met him long after the funeral…She had been sick the day of.
His parents had been in Europe without him. Perhaps it was fortunate, or he, too, would have died, had he been with them…
His feelings on the loss of both of his parents she had never known. Of course it was all over the papers and she could remember her mother in particular weeping for him, and for the loss of her good friend. Everyone in first-class had felt terrible for him, and he had had to deal with that as well as taking over his father's company at barely twenty-eight years of age…Yes. Now…now she could remember…
Truthfully she had never even bothered to know…It struck her most how awful that was…
He had dealt with it rather gracefully in the public eye and remained stoic and good-natured as ever. That was remarkable…
Yet, as she stared at the portrait again, he still looked so very different…this Cal looked dead. This Cal looked like a stranger. As if the life were being squeezed out of him and as if he were half-dead already… This was nothing like the Cal she knew.
Looking at his parents again, both of them had one of their hands on the back of the chair, behind their son's shoulders. Somehow, she knew that they were to blame. As if in a rush she recalled how he had said his parents had never given a damn about him…this was indeed the truth, she now knew…
She couldn't even be bothered to read now. But still, she felt herself drawn toward it. If she really was truthful, it was mostly fascinating seeing him at a younger age…
What must his life have been like? Certainly privileged, certainly fun at times, she knew. But when with his parents, she had to wonder at the thoughts he had felt, feelings he had known. She had never ever entertained that his life had been anything but happy and spoiled growing up.
Now, she knew she was wrong. She had never entertained that he had ever had hardships like her with her mother…but she now knew that she was wrong about that too…
Chancing one last glance at the portrait, she turned off the light and went back downstairs to her room, almost feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prickling.
That evening, Rose dined alone, as Cal had had to work later than usual. It had been much to her disappointment, most surprisingly… He had arrived home when she had already begun getting ready for bed.
Waiting awhile before making her way downstairs, she somehow, as if by instinct, knew he was in his study.
She had been thinking over her discovery what seemed the whole day. She was dying to discuss it with him, but did not want to bring it up for fear of painful memories for him.
No, she resolved. There were some things to be discussed, and others never to be. As much as she, truthfully, was simply dying to know, she would only ever bring it up if he did. And besides, she was a little, truth be told, embarrassed as well at somehow letting him know she had been so entranced by the portrait…That she even had seen it…
Shaking her head, she arrived at the study door and knocked on it
"Come in," he said.
She slowly opened the door and found he was writing, to her surprise.
"Oh," she said. "You're…writing."
He glanced up and smiled a bit at her. "What did you think I was doing?" he asked, the innuendo rife in his voice.
Rolling her eyes a little, she went and stood behind the chair.
"I was just finishing up some last-minute figures for work, that was all. I'm sorry we didn't get to see each other as much today; with Thanksgiving coming up I've had to work late."
He tousled his hair and then closed the log.
Rose still stared at him, a millennia of burning questions on her mind still…
Acutely aware how foolish she must look, instead, she simply settled for what she had been meaning to say all along to him.
"I…I just wanted to thank you again for last night. It meant…it meant a great deal to me," she said softly.
He smiled a little. "You're welcome, Rose."
Nodding rather awkwardly the longer she made eye contact with him, she said, "I'm going to bed now, but I…I just wanted to say that. Have a good night."
Had she, Rose, really just said that and meant it?
He smiled again. "Thank you. I hope you have a pleasant night as well."
And then she stiffly smiled and turned, leaving. She chanced one last glance back at him at the door and he winked.
As she went upstairs, and then waited for sleep to overcome her, she still could not help feeling a little shocked, as always, at the fact that she was able to be so at ease around him…at the fact that she could tolerate and, even, now, look forward to his company…
She would never understand it, but, as sleep gradually overcame her, she knew that she really, truly did enjoy it…and that, somehow, that would not change anytime soon.